


Peter Makes a Mistake

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Series: Peter Makes [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Explicit Language, Gen, Peter-centric, Skeletons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started when he bit Gerard Argent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peter Makes a Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> ah yeh we gettin into it now

It all started when he bit Gerard Argent. The man was getting away, scampering out of the warehouse like prey. And maybe his Alpha instincts weren’t the best after being dead for a few weeks - too raw, too aggressive - but he had gone tearing out, ignoring any and all warning shouts. 

The old man wasn’t fast, sick and drained as he was, and Peter tackled him down, half-shifted already. He bit into his side once and then felt a hand pulling his shoulder back, gripping tight, Derek shouting over Gerard Argent’s sudden screaming, “Peter, stop!” 

Peter did pause, placing the importance of ripping Gerard Argent apart at more of a desire than a need. He turned back to Derek, who appeared increasingly horrified the more Peter looked at him. His mouth fell open and, as more people filed out of the warehouse, they looked similarly shocked and repulsed.

Just as Peter looked back at the Argent man under him, clearly the object of their attention, he could hear Stiles mutter, “ _Holy fucking shit._ ”

With the dignified grace of a mature Alpha wolf, Peter scrambled back on his ass, bumping into Derek’s knees, forcing him to take a few awkward unsteady steps backwards to get away.

Gerard Argent kept screaming, now writhing on his back, that thick, black bilge still dripping from his twisted open mouth. His cheeks were tight, hands weakly reaching up to claw at them, at his eyes, which were bulging, bulging, and - his cheeks dropped, sagged - or _melted_. 

The skin on his face was melting, hot blood pouring down alongside it. His eyes liquified, fingers accidentally digging into the sockets. He let out blood-curdling scream after scream and someone behind Peter, he couldn’t tell who, yelled, “Oh, God, someone make him stop! Someone shut him up!”

Scott ran forward, beyond words, and Peter knew his savior complex was running wild - driven mad by the need to help. He was grateful when Derek presupposed his wishes and put a hand out to stop him, as Peter was still a little thrown, sitting on the ground, panting, watching the elder Argent’s hand’s melt; bony, goo-covered knuckles coming into view. 

Peter could tell the rest of him was liquefying as well, his arms, now falling to his sides as he struggled to stand, dripping out of his sleeves. There was a squelching sound from his shoes and a flood of pink goo oozed from his pant leg once he was upright. He took a stumbling step forward, hands outstretched, towards Peter, which had him and Derek growling, on their feet, ready to fight off the clearly very real threat of the quickly melting old man. 

Still screaming; although now his screeches were higher, toneless, more animal; although now his his mouth was just a dark gaping hole with white and red-lined teeth, his eyes sockets now oozing pinkgrey brain matter and fixing on Peter as he shambled a step forward. His clothes were sticky and what had been his skin and blood and insides were pooling and dripping out as he tried to move. His skeletal frame froze, but his unending screeching did not.

Summarizing his situation well, Peter said, “Fuck.”

In the next moment, Gerard Argent, now a skeleton, took off into the woods. His shoes squitched with each step, leaving a pink and red trail, with darker splotches of brown and even some purplish tones.

No one followed. They all just stood there, catching their breath. Peter, feeling much more himself now that he wasn’t faced with a skeleton man and could only faintly hear his screams as he retreated further into the woods, brushed off his pants. He cleared his throat and looked at the gaping teenagers and his nephew who might as well have been a teenager and the Argent kin that had bothered to stay around. Everyone was looking at him.

“Don’t be like that,” he tutted, voice perhaps a bit too soft with nerves he was trying to hide. “That’s not my fault.”

Stiles and Scott and some of the others came over, Stiles stomping up an shouting, “What the hell was that?”

“Well, Stiles,” Peter said evenly, a little coldly, “It appears Gerard Argent gazed upon the Ark of the Covenant and, as I’m sure you know, God doesn’t take lightly to these sorts of things. It’s just a relief the blasted thign was removed before anyone else’s face was melted off. Praise God. Blessed be.”

Derek looked like he might pop a vein. Chris Argent stalked over.

“Do you think this is funny?” he snarled, getting into Peter’s face. Peter felt nonplused. In fact, the useless act of intimidation did wonders to center and calm him. 

He gave a half-shrug and Chris growled, not unlike a wolf. Peter wondered if he knew. “You don’t seem all that broke up about it.” he remarked.

“What did you do to my father?” Chris enunciated clearly.

Peter was taken aback. He placed an affronted hand on his chest. “ _Me?_ You think _I_ did this?” He put on his best shocked face and, truly, he did look utterly scandalized by the accusation. 

“You did bite him.” Scott snapped.

Peter gaped. “I would never!” 

No one believed him but the rest of the night was rather anticlimactic. Chris and his people finally headed into the woods after the skeletal remains of his father. Lydia moved her one true love from the premises, wanting nothing to do with Peter or his alleged turning of the old Argent into a skeleton. 

Derek just looked at him a long time before they took their singular Beta, as Derek had lost the other two, home - which ended up being a dirty, abandoned train station. 

Peter was more horrified with the conditions Derek lived in than the fact that a man’s skin had melted before his very eyes. He told Derek as much, and he looked appalled in a dumb, constipated way.

“Well,” he finally said, making his way to the one mattress. “What a night. I’m glad it’s over.”

Derek huffed, glowered. “Is that it?” he asked. It was clear he had meant for his words to have more bit but was exhausted. 

“Derek, _cher_ , you’re falling asleep where you stand. Come lie down. If you think about it,” he continued as Derek hunkered down next to Isaac who had curled up at Peter’s side almost immediately, “Gerard Argent is much better off like this. No more nasty cancer to worry about - unless it was some sort of bone disease, because in that case I’m afraid there really is no hope for him.” 

Petulant, a teenager once more, Derek lay on his side, facing away from Peter. Isaac’s hand curled into Derek’s shirt, though, nosing at the back of his neck muzzily. 

“Besides,” Peter said, “We’ve done everyone a service. He’ll be much less obnoxious now. His long-winded nature was an earsore, to say the least.”

“I’m not sure we heard the same noise after all his skin melted off if you seriously think this is better.”

Peter nestled down behind Isaac. “I stand by my statement.” He wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist. Isaac must have not known better yet because he placed his hand over Peter’s, holding lightly.

No one said anything else, so Peter closed his eyes and slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Come kick around with me on [my tumbley](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/).


End file.
